


Rape Prevention

by jaredsexual



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Father/Son Incest, M/M, everybody is happy, not actually containing rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:30:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1981299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaredsexual/pseuds/jaredsexual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles comes home from school earlier after a day of rape prevention class and is surprised to see his dad home as well. The sheriff, simply following his parental duties, wants to make sure that Stiles really paid attention, totally unaware of what direction this is going to take.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rape Prevention

**Author's Note:**

> I watched this video about “how you can escape a rape position” and I don't know, this idea just popped into my head.  
> This is the first fic that I have actually finished EVER! So I ask you to scale down your expectations before you start to read.
> 
> The story contains a father/son incest relationship, so if this is not your cup of tea, do everyone a favor and go back.  
> No beta, I apologise for all mistakes and absurd things that are happening here.

When Stiles comes home from school he is surprised to see his dad's car in the driveway, parking his Jeep right behind it. He turns off the engine and goes quickly inside, throwing his bag carelessly on the couch and heading directly for the kitchen where he hears his dad rattling with some dishes.

“Hey Dad!” he swings himself around the door frame, just preventing his body from falling as he underestimates his own speed.

“What happened? Is everything alright? You're early!” he babbles, feeling his toes twitching nervously.

“So are you,” the sheriff smiles as he examines his son over his shoulder. He stands up from the kitchen cabinet and turns around to face Stiles.

“Son, don't worry. Everything is alright, I just switched my shift with Parrish. Nothing to panic about,” he assures him, sending a crooked smile to the boy.

“Oh,” Stiles breathes, feeling the tension flying off his shoulders, disappearing as fast as it has appeared, “that's... good to hear.”

“So, what are _you_ doing so early at home?”

“Oh, we had this rape prevention class the whole day and yeah, we could leave earlier,” Stiles rubs his neck with one hand while he focuses on his dad. The sheriff wears a simple white t-shirt and this one pair of jeans which seems nearly too tight and Stiles is wondering, like every time, how the hell his dad got into these. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and tries very hard to keep his eyes on his dad's and not on other parts of him. Jesus, this is his _dad_ after all!

“Rape prevention, huh?” the sheriff raises his eyebrows and reaches back to close the cabinet door behind him, “so, I don't have to worry about you being outside late at night anymore?” he smiles and crosses his arms before his chest.

_Fucking arms_ .

Stiles is ready to bring the “I am still human and there are werewolves out there”-argument but then remembers that his dad still believes in the rational laws of physics and nature and decides to keep it that way.

“We guys only acted as the abusers and got the talk about how it is wrong to molest a girl at any circumstances, like this isn't an obvious thing,” Stiles huffs and gesticulates with his hands as he walks over to the kitchen counter and grabs an apple.

“So you're saying you don't know how to defend yourself in case of a sexual attack?” the sheriff drops his arms and widens his eyes.

The sound of Stiles' teeth breaking the juicy flesh of the fruit fills the room, before he answers between chews: “Well, I practically know  _how_ , but why would I need it anyway?” he wipes away some juice from his mouth, swallowing the piece of apple a bit too early. He definitely has other kind of problems in life.

“Stiles! You can't be serious here! Being a male doesn't protect you from being raped, I really thought you would know that!”

“I do!” he babbles against his apple, shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“But?” the sheriff frowns, approaching his son by one step.

“It's not my fault that they didn't teach us, okay?” Stiles defends himself. He feels his skin getting warm and itchy.

“Get on the floor,” his dad says dry, not taking his eyes of his son.

“I-What?” Stiles asks perplex, nearly dropping his apple.

“I said, get on the floor,” the sheriff repeats, gesturing towards the ground.

“And why would I do this?” Stiles doesn't have a good feeling with this situation. Oh man, this can't end well.

“Because,” his dad stretches the word, “I am first, your father and second, the sheriff and it is my _job_ to prepare you for all possible distresses that life could have in mind for you,” he is now standing right before him, so close that Stiles can smell his aftershave. He literally throws the bitten apple on the counter and ducks his way around his dad, dropping his body to the floor. 

Sitting on the ground, right in their fucking kitchen, Stiles looks up to his dad, feeling more than ridiculous.

“Great, what now?” he stretches his fingers and plays with the rim of his t-shirt. Oh this is so not going to end well.

His dad squats down right before him, jeans stretching as tight as possible, and looks him in the eyes.

“Now, you lay down straight on the floor with your legs bent and spread,” he orders.

“Dad, I don't know if-”

“Christ, just do it Stiles!” he groans, slapping his hand on his own thigh.

Stiles lies back just as his dad has told him and covers his eyes with his forearm.

_Focus, Stiles, focus!_

Suddenly, he feels two strong hands gripping around his thighs and pulling him over the floor until his legs are tightly wrapped around his dad's hips.

“Uhm, D-Dad?” he stutters, trying desperately to get a grip on anything that is _not_ his dad.

“This,” his father ignores Stiles' gawky movements, “is the usual rape position.”

“Alright, alright, got it! Can I go now?” Stiles feels his hands getting sweaty, feeling his dad's groin so close to his own totally messes with his head and he tries everything to suppress any signals his body wants him to send. If he won't get away from here anytime soon, he will have a big problem.

_Just don't stare, don't fucking stare!_

“Stiles, we haven't even started,” he hears his dad laughing but it sounds miles away. His head is buzzing, trying hard to find some distraction that doesn't include his – he's going to hell for that – hot dad, sitting between his spread legs in these forbidden jeans!

“Would you open your eyes please?” the sheriff sighs, “I'm trying to show you how you can literally save your ass here!”

He doesn't even notice that he has closed them but he slowly begins to open them again, trying to  _only_ look at his father's face and ignore his poor attempt of a pun. His dad is staring down at him, head tilted and his hands still firm on his thighs.

“S-sorry,” he whispers as he tries to get his breathing to a normal rhythm again.

Just in this moment, the sheriff adjusts his position which causes some dangerous friction against Stiles' midsection and forces him to part his lips and let out a silent moan which he is sure his dad has heard. He immediately clears his throat and knits his eyebrows, failing to hold back the little blush he can feel appearing on his cheeks.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

He can see how his dad is trying to hold back a grin, obviously amused by Stiles' weird teenager hormones when it actually isn't just his hormones! He tries to come up with a way to get himself out of this situation, not even looking for a smart one, but he just can't find any argument to get away from this. Maybe he doesn't even want to get away from this, his father in a position he only dreamed of before. Hell, he definitely doesn't want to get away from this! But he knows that he has to, he can't reveal his dirtiest secrets to his dad here. Otherwise he would presumably end up on the streets faster than he can say “I may be fucked up but you know, there are worse things like werewolves,” so yes, he _has_ to get away.

“Anyway,” his dad sighs, “tell me, what would you do in a situation like this?” the perusing look burning into his skin.

_Pull you down to feel your weight on my body, kiss you, beg you to touch me_ .

“Uhm, dunno, spit on your face?” he nervously bites on his lip, trying hard to separate his thoughts from the actual words that are leaving his mouth.

“Goddamn it Stiles, I thought you had this earlier?” the sheriff frowns, clearly loosing his patience with his son.

Stiles tries to concentrate, god, he never tried to concentrate so hard and he never failed more. Trawling his memory, the pictures of Lydia lying beneath him come up again, how she successfully fought her way away from Stiles, ungraceful but efficient.

“I-ugh-I would put my arms out, like this,” he demonstrates, stretching his arms completely, “and I would-I would put my hands on your shoulders.”

His father reacts, leaning over him which causes Stiles' breath to hitch and forces him to fight back another sound that is making it's way up his throat. He carefully places his hands against his dad's solid shoulders and waits for a reaction of the man.

“Good. This way, I can't place myself on top of you and you can keep me at distance. What do you do next?” his eyes steady on Stiles who feels uncomfortably hot. The boy can hardly hold his arms back from starting to shake and, _oh no_ , can slowly feel how his pants are getting too tight. He comes to the conclusion that the fastest way out of this is to go along with it, doing everything as his dad demands, so he will free him and Stiles can rush upstairs to jerk off under the covers in his bed.

“I place my foot on your hip, like this,” the slightly change of position makes his dick twitch, “and t-then I can push myself away from you,” his voice is shaking this tiny bit which can't be unnoticed by his dad, he is sure about that, “so that I can place my other foot also on your hip.” Stiles notices the heavy sound of his breathing, being glad for the new originated space between their middles. His dad seems to shift his whole weight onto Stiles' arms which makes it much more difficult to hold them into place.

“Exactly. In this position, I have no access to any part of your body. A normal reaction of me would be to pull away from you,” what he exactly does, “in that case, you would be doing what?”

“I'd kick you in the face, best case, right under your chin,” Stiles' says triumphantly, almost tasting his narrow escape. He is ready to get his body up from the floor, not expecting his father's next action.

“Good let's do it again, faster this time,” the sheriff announces. He doesn't even give Stiles a second to process his words as he immediately grabs his thighs again and pulls him as close as they were before, too fast for Stiles' brain and way too fast for his dick.

“Daad!” he moans out loud when his cock makes contact with his dad's midsection again, slapping a hand over his mouth as soon as the word has left his lips. His face is burning and his hips jerk up, not giving him any chance to hold them back. His dad looks down at him, eyes widened and hands still placed on his thighs. Stiles swears that he sees his cheeks redden.

His mind tells him to push his dad away, to get up from this fucking floor and get the hell out of this room. But he can't. Or more precisely, he doesn't want to. How often had he dreamt of a situation like this? How many nights had he spent winding in his sheets while he'd imagined these big hands on his thighs, touching him in places where only his lanky fingers have been? He knows how the normal, rational reaction in this situation should look like. But his body just doesn't let him act it out.

His hands rush forward and clash against the backs of his dad's ones, his fingers immediately clinging onto them. His hips make contact with the ground just to jerk up again, causing a friction that nearly makes him see stars. Stiles' mouth falls open and he lets out another groan.

“Fuck I'm sorry, so so sorry,” he moans, eyes falling shut.

“Jesus, Stiles!” his father breathes and Stiles can feel how he tries to pull his hands away. He practically digs his nails into his dad's skin, not daring to open his eyes.

“Don't, please,” he begs as he cups his father's wrists and pulls them upwards, causing his father to almost fall on top of him. The sheriff lets out a surprised breath as he barely breaks his fall on his forearms.

“Please,” Stiles repeats, embracing the body over him and putting his hands on his dad's scapulae. He doesn't know why but he just can't stop. It is too late to stop now anyway, so he can as well do this with everything he has. Stiles lifts his legs from the ground and winds them around his dad's hips, forcing their middles together.

“Stiles,” the sheriff huffs, Stiles feeling his breath against his cheek, “what are you-you shouldn't-we shouldn't do this,” he lowers his head and Stiles feels his forehead against his shoulder which induces him to tilt his head towards it.

“But I _want_ to,” he lets his hands wander up till they reach the bare skin of his father's neck, “want you so much Dad,” he moans against the soft hair that is brushing his lips. He tightens the grip of his legs, giving his cock the pressure it demands, as he digs his fingers into his father's hair, pulling him gently upwards.

“Need you, wanted you for so long,” he breathes against his father's ear, feeling how the body on top of him shivers.

“Don't do this Stiles,” it almost sounds like a warning that is lacking the fitting actions. Stiles circles his hips in unsteady movements, not holding back the high-pitched sounds that are crossing his lips. He suddenly notices his dad moving and abruptly feels strong fingers grabbing his cheeks and forcing him to look up. His hazy eyes meet the pair of dark ones above him and a cold rush runs through his stomach.

Scared that this might be over too soon, he prevents his dad from saying another word by crushing their lips together. The sheriff inhales sharply, obviously surprised by the sudden reaction of his son and tries to pull away. But Stiles holds him in place by pressing his hands firmly against his neck and pulling himself upwards. The boy parts his lips so he can run his tongue over his dad's mouth. And then he can feel how his dad relaxes. He can feel how every muscle that has gone tense from the second Stiles has started to grind his dick against his father begins to ease and goes soft under his touch. The hand on his face loosens and cups his right cheek, as he feels how his dad starts to return the kiss. Thousands of nonexistent bubbles seem to burst in his stomach and release some gas that makes his whole body tickle.

The ocean of lust has swallowed him completely by now and he clings onto his dad's shirt eagerly. Stiles feels a tongue sliding in between his lips and he lets out a moan when it touches his own. Not only Stiles is grinding against his dad now, the sheriff is also pushing down, clearly rubbing their dicks together, with the only difference that his thrusts are way better aimed and not as uncontrolled as Stiles'.

“Daaad, fuck!” the boy throws his head back, feeling how his shirt starts to stick against his skin. His whole body feels like it is on fire and the air around them is hotter than any summer day he has experienced this year.

Stiles immediately feels his father's lips on his neck after he has broken their kiss and arches his back. His dick pushes painfully against his pants, trying to seek more of the friction and Stiles knows that he won't last long. The sheriff lets his tongue slide over Stiles' sensitive skin until it reaches the thin spot behind his ear.

“Stiles,” his dad breathes against his lope and a shiver runs down Stiles' back. He can feel how his father lowers his hand and only a few seconds later, a rough palm cups him through his pants.

“Ugghh,” he moans, burying his fingers in his dad's hair.

A pair of lips stifle his moan, pressing eagerly against his own while the hand on his crotch is working in circles, varying the pressure in a way that drives Stiles insane. He can feel how his hands are trembling against the fabric they cling to, his fingers fumbling clumsily with it. His whole body is in motion and he impatiently thrusts against the hand on his dick, not caring about how desperate he must look.

“Da-Daddy! I won't-I can't,” he stammers pulling his dad as close as possible, holding onto him like a sailor to the sea. He can feel little sweat pearls forming on his forehead, not serving the purpose of cooling they should.

“Come Stiles, come for me son,” he presses his head against Stiles' and this is all he needs.

He comes in his pants like he is fourteen again, but it's definitely not comparable to these early adventures. Stiles sees stars behind his eyelids and every cell of his body shivers from pleasure like he's never experienced before. He loses the feeling of time and space for a moment, moaning under his dad and completely soaked into the sensation of androgens floating through his body.

After a few minutes, his dad moves his hand up again and lays it against Stiles' cheek. Stiles finally opens his eyes, panting and cheeks blushing when he looks at his father.

“So,” his dad starts as he caresses Stiles' forehead with his fingers, “can we _now_?” Stiles looks puzzled, the shame of what's just happened still vivid in his eyes.

“Huh, what?” a raw voice escapes his throat.

“Remember what we had to stop earlier, because of your little rapture?” Stiles ignores the smirk on his dad's face and pulls him down to hide in the crook of his neck. He's still leery about reality and not sure if he can trust his brain or if it is just playing tricks on him.

“Could we just finish this as fast as possible? I really want to change my pants,” he mumbles against his dad's skin, still holding onto him with both of his hands.

“Sure,” his dad laughs as he pulls away, “but don't you think you'll get away with this. We two will have a talk later, you can bet on that!”

“Ohhhh,” Stiles huffs as he covers his eyes with his hands. His thighs get gripped once again and he finds himself in the exact same position he was before things went down.

“Tell me again, what would be the first thing you would do when you find yourself in this situation?” Stiles can't believe how unruffled his father acts and he has the feeling that he will have to last a little bit longer in these pants than he would like to.


End file.
